His Secret
by Pegitty5
Summary: Can two of forbidden birth bear a forbidden love for each other? StefanxSoren. No bad stuff, just some yaoi fluff.
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys. Umm...I have always liked the Stefan/Sourn pairing, but I couldn't find any stories about it so I just made one myself.

Oh! and for people who don't like shounen - ai...BOY x BOYfor those of you who don't know..then don't read! Or else you'll getangry and say mean things to me and make me sad :(

So yea, no reading if you are against shounenai, or if it makes you uncomfy or whatever.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Fire Emblems or any of its characters.

Soren could always tell when a battle was about to start. There was a certain sort of energy, a sort of feeling he received among the small – and in his opinion – makeshift army. Whether it was anxiety, or fear, or even eagerness, he could never tell, but whatever it was sent his nerves on edge and the hair on the back of his neck stand straight. Not that he'd ever tell anyone, not even Ike. Showing nervousness meant to be weak.

Pushing some ink-black hair from his eyes, he checked his supplies and scanned over the army's status once more. Twenty-one was the headcount. Hopefully it would stay that way over the next battle. He glanced over in the distance and frowned as he looked over what was to be their battlefield. A bridge. He'd never been too comfortable on those…in fact, he'd never been too comfortable around water at all. A slight shiver went through his spine. He closed his eyes, silently berating himself for showing any signs of his anxiety.

When he opened them again, he found himself staring into a pair of deep emerald eyes. Soren flinched and jerked back before he could stop himself.

"At all nervous, Soren?" Stefan asked, a soft smile on his lips. How he'd gotten so close so silently was beyond him.

The dark-haired mage opened his mouth and closed it again. "I – I have no need for your concern," he managed to stammer once he'd recovered somewhat. "I'm fine."

"I just thought you looked a little pale for a moment," Stefan chuckled, straightening to his full height. He towered over Soren, something the mage hadn't noticed before; they hadn't talked that often in the past, but…there had been moments where he felt a sort of connection – talking without words, if you will, as if they were the same…kind.

But that was impossible, wasn't it?

Soren snapped back into reality when he realized Stefan was talking again. He had a deep voice. Soothing, almost. "We can't have your nerves getting the better of you before a battle, you do realize that, don't you? You would hurt yourself out in the field if your mind wandered, and we can't let your talents go to waste." He smiled smugly, and turned his head so he was looking at him sideways, never losing that smirk. "After all, we of one kind must look after one another. Don't you agree?"

It was like being dumped in cold ice. Was he talking about – his hand reached for the mark on his forehead before quickly dropping it down to his sides again. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," he snapped, a little too defensively. "We are _not _of the same kind. I am beorc."

Stefan just raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly at his forehead.

"It's a mark of the spirits!" Soren snapped again, taking a step back from him. His eyes narrowed angrily.

"I see. It's a secret then, is it?" Stefan sighed with that ever-present smirk. "Then keep it." And, before the mage could stop him, he reached out and ruffled his dark hair before walking away in his own self-confident swagger.

Soren could do little more than watch him go, and without realizing what he was doing, he reached up and tentatively touched the spot where Stefan's hand had been a moment before – and quickly covered it up by pretending to smooth his hair down.


	2. Chapter 2

For all the people who reviewed, thank you! You guys really made my day. I love you all. 3

Umm…this chapter is really just introductions and stuff…what I mean to say is…. this is going somewhere I SWEAR.

Enjoy! Hopefully

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

_It was late in the night. Only Soren was awake, clearing a mess of supplies out of his pack, brushing aside various things as he searched for a certain tome. He'd been looking for it forever, without the least idea of where it had gone. It was simply as if – _

_He turned around suddenly, midnight black hair whipping along with him. The sound of voices reached his ears; faint at first, but growing steadily louder. Soren, instantly alert, sat up on his knees. He didn't want to look so undignified, on all fours on the ground, searching through his pack like some sort of beggar would search through filth . _

_But the voices stopped right outside his tent. The owners seemed to have halted as one does in idle conversation. Their tones were light and carefree, but with a slight bit of careful restraint, as if the smallest of syllables counted and they would die before they let a spoiled one cross their lips. Soren crept a little closer, then swallowed and turned away. He didn't approve of eavesdroppers, and he wasn't about to become a hypocrite… _

_And then he heard Ike's laugh. It was Ike, alright; he'd recognize that unbridled sound anywhere. _

_Ike. Soren's face became hot. When had it happened? – he didn't know. He had no idea when he had first looked at Ike and felt an unfamiliar longing. It was a feeling that nearly tore him apart with confusion and the need to express it. But how could he explain it when he didn't know what it was? It was blazing as fire and as electrifying as a storm; it got his heart racing and made his cheeks glow a cute pink color (which humiliated him to no end). But if he ever told Ike…_

_What would he think?_

_Would he understand?_

_Then Ike's laugh was answered by a tinkling giggle. This one was unfamiliar to Soren, and he had a sudden craving to know who it was. He shuffled a little closer. The tent flap was slightly open. If he could get a good angle, perhaps he could get a better view… He shifted, flicking his dark robes back impatiently, and allowed himself the tiniest peek. But that peek quickly turned into a stare._

_It was Ike and Elincia, and they were holding hands. There was no mistaking the mutual feeling between them. It shone through their eyes like a beacon._

_They loved each other. _

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In the waking world, Soren's brows ceased momentarily and he shifted in a forced sleep.

"I've done the best I can," Rhys said, standing up. He ran a hand through his red hair, genuinely concerned. "He'll be out for a day, though…at least."

Ike nodded. His expression was grim. He'd suffered numerous wounds, but they were small and nearly painless, nothing like what Soren had endured. It disturbed him that he could not protect his dear friend; it wasn't even him who had protected Soren the moment he fell – it had been Marcia, who had spotted Soren on her winged horse and had delivered him to safety. It was only after the battle that Ike had realized that Soren was hurt at all, and he had been horrified to hear that he'd suffered an arrow that had punctured his lung. If it weren't for Rhys's quick work, he might not have survived.

Rhys looked up and noted Ike's guilty expression. "Ike, none of this is your fault. I'm sure Soren wouldn't blame you. Besides," he gave him a gentle smile, "he'll be just fine soon."

Ike turned away, unconvinced. "I was told the responsibility of a general was to protect his soldiers," he said, facing away from Rhys. "If I can't even guard my friend…"

"I - Ike, please. Don't talk that way…everyone here thinks you're a good general and a good person. They trust you – they wouldn't follow you if they didn't. And Soren fought because he trusted you as well…he knew the risks he was taking and he gladly took them. He wouldn't do that for anyone else." The priest's eyes grew sad. "It wasn't your fault. You must believe me."

Ike was silent. Then, after a moment, he sighed and returned Rhys's gaze. If only to ease him, Ike smiled, but the smile was tired and more than a little forced. "I can't thank you enough for helping Soren, and for everything else besides. Can you tell me when he wakes up?"

"Of course," Rhys replied, returning the smile, which he hoped was a reassuring one.

Stefan held his hand up. In between each finger were three golden coins, plain as day. Then, with a flick of the wrist, a turn of the hand followed by a single, graceful flourish of his arm, he fisted his palm and opened it again – where once were three coins, there was now one.

"Woooow!" exclaimed Mist, her eyes bright. Rolf leaned forward, peering over her shoulder. Both of their eyes were as wide as china plates and just as bright. "How'd you do that?"

"It comes from living alone. You learn things," he replied. There was a quiet smile on his face. "Some more useful than others."

They sat right in front of Soren's tent. Stefan had found the little ones fretting over Soren, but they were kept out because Rhys had said it was better if Soren was alone. But they still hovered about the tent, worry making their faces ashen and tiring them to the bone. So he thought to entertain them a bit, to get their minds off other things; for the time being, it was working.

"But where'd the other ones go?" Rolf piped up. He was nervous around Stefan, which didn't surprise him. Most people were.

Stefan opened his other hand. Two golden coins glittered, exposed.

They both gasped and fell into childish chatter and giggles, saying that someday, they would be able to do that, and would he please teach them?

He just smiled as a response and glanced once again at Soren's tent. He had not explained to the children why he had come; neither was he likely to. He had given off the appearance that he had merely passed through by chance, an appearance that they accepted without question. Yes, Stefan was worn from fighting, it was late, and he could feel sleep catching onto him, but that didn't matter; he had come to see Soren.

Of course Stefan had known what he was from the very beginning, but it soon became obvious Soren preferred to keep his true nature unknown. He'd met many of the Branded in the desert, as it was their one and only sanctuary, but none captivated him so much as Soren; his cold heart and sharp tongue, the grace and power with which he commanded magic, even the way his dark hair cascaded over his shoulders and down his back.

He still remembered the day when their eyes first met. Soren had turned away quickly. No doubt he'd realized what Stefan was, as well.

And when Stefan confronted him about it, Soren had denied it time and time again; at last Stefan had left him with an invitation to come to Gran desert, where there were many others like him.

He so hoped he would consider.

_Hungry…_

_He was a child again, a small, helpless child, huddled in the corner. _

_He was so hungry._

"_Stay away from me, child!" An angry voice. His 'mother'. _

"_Don't you dare come near me! Stay away!" _

_But…_

"_Stay _away!_" _

Soren's eyes opened with a snap and he sat straight up, gasping, only to come face to face with yet another surprise; a pair of dark green eyes, covered slightly with green hair. They looked as surprised as he was.

"Stefan…?" Soren asked, utterly confused, then with a sharp cry his hand flew to his side, where the pain finally hit him.

He found himself falling backwards, but was caught before he could fall.

His last waking thought was of how warm and comforting those arms were.


End file.
